there is a different fragrance from my body
in the heat of the summer
when the rays of warmth and UV come down
on my brown hair, and on my shoulders and back.
yes, i am hot, but i am also salt,
and sweat, and blood.
my pores excretes this, and it creates a new smell
for a new season.
it's almost like in the heat, i am more comfortable,
and the breeze feels better than it ever did before.
the sun looks better, and the clouds to cover it.
without the torture of the body, the smell would not come,
the breeze wouldn't feel cool,
and the cloud's momentary shade wouldn't feel as good.
but then again, maybe not.
maybe the heat has gotten to my brain.
i like the following sentences: 'My pores excrete this and this create a newsmell for a new season'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice poem with lucid flow of thoughts